Too Close for Comfort
by Hannaadi88
Summary: Next time, Alfred vowed, he would at least ask for their name. Next time, Alfred swore, he wouldn't bed his boss.
1. Part I

This was his last night of freedom. And he was going to fucking enjoy it.

Alfred ran his fingers through his hair and pushed back his bangs in an attempt at suaveness, which made him look like a nervous adolescent more than anything else. No one seemed to mind him as he walked through the mass of sweaty bodies, though, so perhaps his hair wasn't as much of a catastrophe as he had thought.

Which was a good sign, all things considered. He wanted to look his best tonight. After all, he couldn't let Gilbert win their bet (his pride wasn't even the main issue- Alfred didn't _have _twenty bucks on him). Alfred was just as capable as any other eligible bachelor to secure a night with a hot stranger.

As he had talked himself into forgoing his wallet, said stranger was going to have to be loaded. He was celebrating his last night out before starting a real job, the kind his father had wanted for him. He'd be damned if he didn't down at least one fancy drink.

The bartender smiled at him when Alfred took a seat at the bar. "Would you like to order a drink?" he asked, gesturing to the colorful display of bottles behind the counter.

Alfred shook his head. "Not yet, thanks. I'm waiting for someone to pay for me."

"I see," the bartender smiled knowingly at him before turning to reach for a glass. "Something tells me you won't be waiting long."

Alfred's eyes followed the bartender's gaze until they fell on a man making his way towards the bar. He couldn't see the stranger's features clearly with the colorful strobes above, but his hair was most definitely blond. As he came closer, Alfred could see that the man carried himself with an air of dignified importance, which was unusual for a clubber.

He liked it.

He most certainly liked the way the stranger's (oh, they were green) eyes studied him when the man took the seat next to him at the bar. He didn't mind the warm weight of the stranger's hand on his own, either.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," the man said, his English accent stalling awkwardly on the blatant American abbreviation. His voice was rich and smooth, however, which more than made up for it. Be it out of amusement or pleasure, Alfred smiled, and that was apparently what the stranger had been aiming for if he were to judge by the matching curve of the lips.

Alfred took a good look at the man. He _looked_ loaded what with his dress shirt and tie. The type wasn't uncommon- plenty of frustrated businessmen frequented clubs at the end of their shifts. They also tended to be free with their money, which was a considerable bonus to the stranger's appeal as far as Alfred was concerned.

He was good for the night, and he hadn't even been in the club for ten minutes. _Take that, Gilbert!_

His smile widened into a pleased grin as he turned in his stool to face his companion. "You aren't so bad yourself," Alfred replied, mimicking the other's emphasise on the 'a' in 'aren't' with a good natured wink. "But your cheesy pick up lines can use some work, dude."

The stranger shook his head. "It worked, though, did it not?"

"Maybe," Alfred pulled his hand from under the other's palm. "Depends on if you're planning on buying me a drink."

Smirking, the stranger turned halfway to the bar and flagged down the bartender, who had been eying them from the opposite counter.

"A shot of whiskey," the man called out before indicating his hand towards Alfred, "and anything he wants for the rest of the evening. On me."

Alfred snorted. "I asked for a drink, not the whole bar. You're gonna regret that."

The stranger leaned in close, close enough to be heard above the music even as he whispered, "not at all. According to my plan, you are not going to remain here very long."

"What do you mean?" Alfred inquired, though he thought he knew the answer. Just in case, he lowered his hand beneath the counter and settled it heavily on the other's thigh. He could feel the man stiffening beneath his fingers, but the moment passed and the muscles relaxed against his palm.

"I mean for you to return with me to my flat," the stranger elaborated, exhaling hotly against the shell of Alfred's ear. "And to rid you of that awful pair of trousers you're wearing. That is," his confidence faltered, "if you're interested?"

Alfred drew back and turned to the bartender. "What d'you think? Is he an axe murderer tempting me into his lair...Tom?"

Tom (or so claimed his nametag) appeared to contemplate his question seriously as he placed the shot of whiskey in front of the stranger. "Well if he is, he's a handsome one," he replied slowly before breaking into a saucy smile. "I certainly wouldn't mind spending my last night in his bed."

The stranger's face was turning a pretty shade of red when Alfred wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him close. "Hey!" he exclaimed with a dramatic flair, "quit hitting on _my_ handsome axe murderer!"

"For the love of-" the stranger began but never got to finish, as Alfred had taken the liberty of crushing their mouths together in a clumsy twist of limbs. Despite the discomfort (or perhaps the man was a masochist, one could never tell), the stranger pressed back in eager determination, taking control of their kiss which was mostly a series of stinging nips and clashing teeth. They would have to work on their coordination later on that night, Alfred supposed, but the thought was brushed aside when his arm was gripped tightly.

"Should I take that as a 'yes', then?" the man insisted, brow furrowed in concentration.

Either his benefactor was slow, or he didn't have much luck scoring. Regardless of the reason for the man's caution, Alfred shook his head in amusement. "What do you think?"

The man suddenly let go of his arm and swiveled to face the counter, grabbing the shot of whiskey and downing it in one go. He began to struggle with his pocket, pulling out a wad of tissues before unearthing his wallet and pressing a bill into the bartender's hand.

"Keep the change," he said distractedly before climbing off of his stool and offering Alfred his hand. "Shall we go?"

Alfred looked between the offered hand and the empty glass next to him. "What about my drink?"

The stranger gave a sharp bark of laughter. "My flat is stocked with all the alcohol you can drink, love," he indicated towards the entrance of the club. "I swear you won't leave before you're properly hung over."

Climbing off of his barstool as well, Alfred cast one last longing glance at the counter. "Do you promise?"

His hand was enveloped in the other's warm grasp and pressed against his lips. "How else am I to get you into bed with me?"

Honestly, the man had some serious issues. It was kind of cute, though. Maybe spending the night together would do more than satisfy their needs for a few hours. He liked the idea- he'd be getting lucky _and_ do a good deed all in one.

"Oh, I bet you can think of something."

.x.

When the stranger had briefly described his flat to Alfred in the taxi, he had failed to mention the white suede couches and the large windows granting Alfred a starlit view of the city. He had been aiming for someone loaded, sure, but hadn't really pictured himself standing next to a window half his height, staring out at the breathtaking skyline with a glass of champagne in his hand.

Well wasn't he feeling fancy?

"Like it?" a pair of arms circled his waist and pulled Alfred back against the stranger's firm chest. The man was a little shorter than him, but maybe it was a blessing in disguise. The mouth pressing hot kisses to the column of his neck was doing wonders.

Alfred settled back, relaxing his muscles and closing his eyes as he enjoyed the man's ministrations. "Let's just say I didn't imagine myself ending up in a place like this when I left for the club," Alfred commented idly, lifting the flute to his lips and finishing the last bit of his drink. "It's not half bad."

The man chuckled. "One of the benefits of having an interior designer for an ex, I suppose. I came home one day and found my entire flat redone."

Opening his eyes, Alfred fiddled around with the glass and glanced at their reflection on the window. Their edged were blurred and the colors a little faded, but there was no mistaking the wistful expression on his host's face. Not that it really mattered in the long run, but Alfred wondered if he was a rebound fuck.

"Is that why you broke up?"

"No," the man shook his head, "Francine had a terrible temper. We both did," he conceded, looking out the window at the scenery as well. He paused for a moment, brows creased in a contemplative frown before apparently remembering the man in his arms. His grip tightened around Alfred and he rested his chin on his shoulder with a sly smile.

One of the hands unwound itself from around Alfred's waist and reached up to grab the champagne flute from his hand, casting it aside on the coffee table. Returning to Alfred's body, the wandering hand was joined by its twin as they both fingered the hem of Alfred's shirt before delving beneath the fabric to explore the warm expanse of his skin.

Alfred inhaled sharply at the cold touch but didn't mind it, not really. The cold was refreshingly acute, making him aware of every patch of skin the man's fingers brushed against. He found himself arching against the other's back, his own hands making quick work of his jeans. He could feel his host's interest pressing lightly against his ass when he bent down to pull his pants off completely. Next time he would wear a looser pair.

The man leaned forward, pinning Alfred to the windowpane so that he had to press his palms against the glass in order to keep his balance. "You don't mind undressing in full view?" he said softly, tracing his way down Alfred's sides until his hands came to rest on his hips. "I never thought I was bringing an exhibitionist home with me."

Heat flooded Alfred's face, but not the embarrassed kind. He hadn't really considered the possibility of onlookers from below, but now that it was mentioned, he found that he didn't mind. In fact, he kind of liked it. It was new and risque- just what he wanted before being dragged down by boring routine of a regular job.

"Is that a problem?" he questioned, looking straight in the eye of the man's reflection, grinning. "We can do vanilla if that's the kind of thing old men like you are into."

The man issued an indignified snort. "You don't even know how old I am."

Alfred shrugged. "I can tell."

"In that case," the man said slowly, "would you prefer I didn't do this?" He slid his hands to the front of Alfred's underwear, cupping his balls through the cloth. He squeezed and then relaxed his grip, pulling back. "Am I too old to touch you?"

His hands leaving a sweaty mark on the window, Alfred reached down to grab the man's wrist with a low growl. "Don't you dare stop," he warned, grinding back against the other's crotch. "You promised. You said you wanted to fuck me into the mattress."

The man hummed. "I might have said that. My memory tends to fail me, though- old age and all that, you know."

Alfred rolled his eyes and pried himself out of the man's grasp. For a moment, the man looked surprised, but his surprise soon turned to a heady smile when Alfred fell to his knees in front of him and began to fiddle with his belt.

Alfred stroked him and looked up with a smirk.

"Maybe this will refresh your memory."

.x.

Waking up with a pounding headache was not on Alfred's to-do list. Yet there he was, curled up in a duvet that smelled strongly of lilacs, nursing one of the worst hangovers known to man. Or to Alfred, at the very least. The next time he saw Gilbert, he was going to strangle him.

Okay, so maybe drinking throughout the night before a new job wasn't the smartest thing he'd ever done. A couple of Aspirins and he was good to go, though. Right?

Alfred groaned loudly and stretched his limbs, expecting to feel a solid weight behind him. He felt nothing but the cool sheets, however, and when he reached out, all his hand grasped was empty air.

Slowly, slowly, Alfred opened his eyes and sat up, gasping at the pang of pain at his temple. He swallowed thickly as he blurrily surveyed the room and took note that indeed, he was alone.

The events of the previous night resurfaced, revealing the chain of events which had landed him in a stranger's bed in God knew where. What he didn't know was where his companion was.

Alfred reached out to the bedside table where he remembered to have left his glasses, grinding his teeth as his whole body protested the sudden movement. Instead of grabbing his frames, though, his hand circled around something cold and smooth. After a few more moments of blind groping, Alfred found his glasses and put them on, blinking as the world came into focus.

The cold object on the table turned out to be a glass of water, set next to two white pills. A green post-it note rested next to the glass, covered in a flurry of script. Alfred reached out for the pills first, popping them in his mouth and washing them down with the water before picking up the note and studying the writing carefully. He had never been left a note before.

_I apologize for not being there when you wake up, but I had to leave for work. Judging by the amount of alcohol you imbibed last night, I expect you'll be needing these pills. You weren't joking when you said you could drink the whole bar, were you?_

_Feel free to remain in bed as long as you like. When you leave, please lock the door and leave the key with the doorman- I've left you one on the counter, as well as some cash for a taxi. You'll find your clothes on the chair._

_It was nice meeting you. I can only hope that you enjoyed yourself as much as I did. _

Alfred smiled, considering to scrawl some saucy comment about enjoying himself when a trickle of fear pooled in his stomach.

_...but I had to leave for work._

What time was it?

Leaping out of bed, Alfred scrambled across the room towards his pile of clothing, neatly folded on a chair. He dug through his pocket and fumbled for his phone, pressing it on and hoping for the life of him that-

shit.

It was ten thirty.

Alfred swore. He yanked his clothing back on frantically, ignoring the throbbing pain in his head and the sore ache of his limbs. He grabbed the key and bill from the counter and rushed out, pausing only to hand the key to the surprised doorman before flagging down a passing cab.

By the time Alfred arrived at his new workplace, he looked worse than he felt, which said it all. His hair was messy (even though he had tried finger-combing it on the way), his clothes were wrinkled and he was out of breath. The receptionist wrinkled her nose at him when she saw him walk in.

When he announced that he was a new employee, she frowned. "Are you sure you're in the right place, sir?" she asked him skeptically, but after he insisted that yes, indeed, he was, she allowed him to follow her to the office.

"Stay here," she ordered him shortly when they reached the door. "The supervisor will see you shortly."

As she disappeared beyond the door, Alfred surveyed the hall, wondering if this was the first and last time he would be walking through it. His father had been so proud when he found out that his son had gotten himself a respectable office job. Was a silly bet and a lone one night stand worth being fired on his first day?

The door opened. "Mr. Kirkland will see you now, sir," the receptionist beckoned to him and stepped back to allow him to pass her. Once he was inside the room, she closed the door behind them with a loud thud.

She obviously wasn't expecting their conversation to last long if she didn't plan on leaving them alone.

"Mr. Jones," a rich voice greeted him stiffly from the front of the room. A blond man, dressed smartly in a grey suit, was sitting down behind a desk, looking through a pile of papers. Alfred held his breath.

_No. There was no fucking way-_

His supervisor- mr. Kirkland, apparently- shook his head and looked up from his desk. "In all of my experience with this company, it is safe to say that this is the first time a new employee arrived two hours after- _good lord!_"

The receptionist, who had been nodding reproachfully in Alfred's direction, turned her eyes to mr. Kirkland with a worried frown. "Sir? Is everything alright?"

Mr. Kirkland stared unabashedly at Alfred, who stared right back. Fleeting images of their night together presented themselves in the forefront of Alfred's mind as if to taunt him and judging by the expression on the other's face, mr. Kirkland was experiencing the same. Alfred hoped his face wasn't as red as the other's, at any rate.

Looking back at that moment, Alfred couldn't help but laugh.

Who knew that the loaded Brit who had offered to buy him a drink would turn out to be his boss?

* * *

><p>This was a fill for a prompt I found a while back on tumblr, worded as the following:<p>

"ONE NIGHT STAND BEFORE THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR NEW JOB AND OOPS THAT WAS YOUR NEW BOSS YOU WERE SLEEPING WITH AU"

I hope you enjoyed it. It was really fun to write xD


	2. Part II

The words on the screen danced in front of Alfred's eyes, confusing him in their blur for a good minute before he remembered to blink. They sharpened back into focus but it was no use- the damage had already been done. Alfred's concentration was gone, sacrificed on the altar of extra hours at the office the night before. It was all he could do to keep his eyes from closing for good and forbidding himself to slump down onto his desk in a tired heap.

Respectable job or not, Alfred wasn't sure he'd be able to physically continue. With a loud yawn he tipped the back of his chair against the wall of his cubicle, stretching his arms out in front of him. Man, he was absolutely cramped. It was maddening, especially considering that Kirkland had such a nice and spacious office to-

"Slacking off, Jones?"

Alfred's chair fell back down onto the floor with a sharp thud. He winced and turned around in his seat to flash his boss a sheepish smile. Speak of the devil. The man had an uncanny ability to sense when he wasn't at his utmost. Damn his intuition.

...then again, that intuition really came in handy when he was pushed down into the covers and engulfed in a warm, damp mouth which knew _exactly_ where to run its tongue...

"No, just resting," Alfred replied firmly, meeting Kirkland's eyes with his own piercing gaze. "I want to be in tiptop shape if you assign me some more overtime tonight, sir."

Kirkland's lips curved in a tight smile. "The company is dealing with a considerable overload this season, Jones, as you very well know. If you are reluctant to give up some of your free time, you may want to consider a resignation."

_Here we go again._

Alfred shook his head. "You've got it all wrong, sir. I mean," he faltered at the expression on the man's face- okay, so maybe starting off an explanation stating that the other was wrong was not the best strategy- "I mean I'm not reluctant. Just a little tired. I don't have a problem with extra work."

"In that case," Kirkland said smoothly as he gathered a pile of papers from the nearest desk, "I'm sure you wouldn't mind helping Honda with his work. He hasn't been feeling well lately, have you, Honda?"

Kiku Honda, who had been discreetly watching their exchange as did everyone else in the office, colored at the sudden shift in conversation. "I, yes, of course," he stumbled, faking a cough for good measure. "I think it's the flue."

Alfred wished with all his might to be able to storm out of the room with a frustrated scream, but the smile he flashed Kirkland was bright. "Sure thing," he took the offered papers and placed them on his own desktop. "Anything to help out a friend."

"Excellent," the smile Kirkland returned was the smuggest Alfred had ever seen on the man. "Carry on, then."

He could feel all the eyes in the room on him as he turned back in his seat to face the computer screen. The gazes lingered for a long moment before gradually returning to their own work, unwilling to be the next employee to be bullied for allowing their attention to wander.

They had no reason to worry, though. Alfred knew that he was a special case, a thorn at the side of his boss that the man yearned to rid himself of. As long as Alfred didn't give him any reason to fire him, though, all he could do was torture him to the brink of resignation.

No, the other employees were safe. They hadn't slept with Kirkland, after all.

Had it been any other man, any other job, Alfred would have reported abuse at the first jab. Maybe he would have given up and tried to find a different job. Kirkland wasn't any other man, though, and their position left no room to lose in this fight of wills.

Kirkland obviously didn't want a man he bedded working for him. Alfred refused to be bullied out of a perfectly good job.

Or a potentially good fuck.

Their liaison had been meant to be nothing more than a one night stand, true, but now that they saw each other every day, Alfred resented it being ignored. They _had _spent a night together, and it was honestly ridiculous for Arthur to pretend and act like it didn't happen.

He'd left a note saying he had a good time, after all. Alfred wanted to hear him say so.

If it took another round, so be it. Alfred F. Jones never balked from a challenge.

.x.

The settling dark found Alfred in more or less the same position Arthur had left him in, bent over his desk with a crick in his neck. His own work had been pushed aside in favor of helping Honda, who had inclined his head in his direction multiple times during the day with an apologetic smile. Alfred knew he didn't dare ask for his papers back- undermining Arthur Kirkland never ended well. He certainly wasn't holding a grudge against the petite brunet.

Still, the work _was _rather grueling and Alfred had to catch himself from nodding off. When he did decide to concentrate on the endless lines in front of him, a soundtrack of swearing accompanied his every move in the back of his mind. Arthur had a lot to make up for when the time came.

When at last he raised his head from the computer screen, Alfred realized that he was alone in the office. His coworkers had been kind enough to leave the light on, but after a series of inattentive goodbyes, Alfred hadn't noticed that he was the last one there. What time was it?

A quick glance at the bottom right of his screen told him that he was going to make a lot of extra money. The only other people he would probably chance upon as he left would be the janitors, mumbling under their breath. Alfred would be bitter too if he had to stay after everyone and clean at nine PM. Extra work or not, he was done for the day. His bed called to him.

He printed out what he had been able to proofread and pushed away from his desk, shutting off the computer with one long press of the button. Slinging his bag over his shoulder, Alfred grabbed the pile of papers and walked out of the room, turning off the light with a satisfying click. He would be back in less than twelve hours, but he tried not to dwell on it.

Alfred had been reprimanded for running through the halls all through his school years, but bad habits die hard. He was in a rush to leave the goddamned building and with no one to perceive his juvenile behavior, he rushed over the sleek granite and skidded to a stop in front of Arthur's office. He knocked on the polished door bearing the noble name of 'Kirkland', just in case.

As he had expected, no answer came. Alfred was fully prepared to leave the pile of papers in front of the door just to spite the man, but a bout of curiosity propelled his hand to the handle and push the door open, just to see if it would give. It did.

Brows high up his forehead, Alfred ventured forward tentatively into the dark room, brushing against the light switch with his shoulder. As the room lit up, the furniture he remembered from his first day were fully illuminated. The desk. The chair. The brown shelving unit which overflowed with binders and loose papers. He even spared a glance at the walls, littered with certificates and diplomas which either served to boost Arthur's ego or to make others feel inadequate. Possibly both.

Bed still beckoned to Alfred from the other end of town, but he felt obliged to stall and study his surroundings. After all, it wasn't every day that you got to snoop around your boss's office. Maybe Arthur kept his file in his top drawer, just to look at him every day. Hah!

...well, a man could dream, couldn't he?

Still, now that he had the image in his mind, he had to confirm it. Alfred dropped his bag onto the floor and approached the desk, depositing the pile of documents behind the computer. He continued forward, circling the desk and finally taking a seat in Kirkland's big, authoritative chair. Oh, how many times had Alfred daydreamed of that chair? And here he was. Sitting in it like a boss.

He straightened his posture and clasped his hands on the desktop, furrowing his brows and in his best Arthur voice cried out, "oi, you there! Back to work!"

Alfred grinned wickedly and cackled, spinning around in the chair in a rush of exhilaration. Arthur may be able to bark orders at him, but he would never know that Alfred had sat in his chair. If he knew, he probably would have had a mini heart attack after yelling-

"What on earth do you think you're doing?!"

Yes, that. Except that he wasn't actually supposed to be standing under the doorframe, looking at him with wide eyes.

Alfred forced the chair to a sudden halt, almost sending him flat against the desk. He met Arthur's gaze with his own shocked baby blues, a blush spreading across his cheeks in embarrassment.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

"What are you doing here?" he countered back, visibly bristling under the other's scrutiny. "You're supposed to be done for the day!"

Arthur stepped into the room, frowning. "If you must know, I forgot my phone. You on the other hand have no reason whatsoever to be in my office." As if to demonstrate his point, he approached his desk and fished out a Blackberry from underneath a pile of papers Alfred hadn't noticed before. He arched a brow in Alfred's direction.

"Trespassing on your superior's property could very well get you fired, Jones."

Alfred could almost hear the joy in the other man's words- Arthur had been looking for an excuse to fire him for weeks. He had basically signed his own resignation the moment he entered the office.

He couldn't let that happen. Not when he had life goals to achieve. He still wanted to see Arthur on his knees.

If he didn't make his move now, the opportunity might never repeat itself. Alfred narrowed his eyes. "Funny. I don't recall your having any objections when I trespassed in your bed."

The color drained from Arthur's face. "T-that's a different matter entirely," he said quickly, stuffing his phone into his pocket while avoiding meeting Alfred's gaze. "Past mistakes are completely unrelated to your current behavior. It's unacceptable."

"It has everything to do with my behavior!" Alfred snapped, standing up from the chair and setting his palms on the smooth desktop, leaning forward. "And yours too, while we're at it. You can't just fuck me and then expect me go along with your charade that it never happened! You can't just make things disappear by ignoring them- or people, for that matter."

"Stop shouting," Arthur hissed, leaning forward against the other side of the desk and reaching out to grab Alfred by the wrist. "Someone could hear you!"

Alfred snorted. "We're the only people here, thanks to you. There's no one here to hear us and report you for sleeping with me." He winced as the grip on his wrist tightened. "What? It's true."

"For all purposes, that never happened," Arthur dug his nails into Alfred's skin. "You'll do well to remember that."

"Bullshit," Alfred yanked his hand away from the other man's grip. "You said yourself that you enjoyed it."

"It was a one night stand," Arthur's tone wavered. Alfred could have sworn he saw a flash of panic in the other's green eyes. "We weren't supposed to see each other again. You weren't supposed to work for me."

"Well that's how things turned out, like it or not. Speaking of which, I'd appreciate it if you stopped trying to get me fired," Alfred frowned.

Arthur narrowed his eyes. "I'm doing no such thing. You're the one who keeps costing the company valuable time and resources."

"There you go again!" Alfred spat in disgust. "Making stuff up to make me look bad! Why can't you just admit that you are the one with the problems?"

"Oh, I have no qualms with admitting that I have a problem," Arthur sniffed, pursing his lips. "Namely, you. I don't see why I didn't turn you away the moment you walked into my office."

"I'll tell you why," Alfred reached forward and grabbed at Arthur's tie, yanking him against the polished wood. "The reason why I'm still here is because you're fantasizing about fucking me on top of this desk. You want your cock down my throat and my face smeared with your cum. You had me and you want me again. But you can't, can you? You're my boss, now. So you take out your frustration on me."

The stretch of silence which followed his words rang in Alfred's ears. He was breathing heavily from his outburst and his nails were digging painfully into the skin of his palm, which was still wrapped around Arthur's tie. The desk between them was an uncomfortable barrier and as the silence continued, Alfred began to slowly let go of the fabric.

Maybe he had been wrong. Maybe he had crossed the line. He was still furious with the other, but perhaps his words-

Alfred's train of thought was cut off when a pair of hands cupped his cheeks and pulled him forwards to meet a pair of lips. Arthur bit him, demanding and taking everything from the kiss in a heated mesh. Alfred tried to bite back, to push his own tongue into the other's mouth, but Arthur's grip on the kiss was firm. By the time they pulled back, they were both short of breath.

"I thought I was a mistake," Alfred broke the silence. Arthur raised a brow.

"Then I suppose I'm about to make another one. On your knees, Jones."

Without any further comment Alfred dutifully dropped to his knees and watched Arthur circle the desk and settle himself in his chair. He crossed his legs and looked down in Alfred's direction before beckoning him with a wave of his hand. Cheeks slightly red, Alfred crawled the few steps towards the other and stopped just in front of his feet.

Arthur's foot shot out and nudged itself beneath Alfred's chin, pushing his head up and meeting his eyes with an icy stare.

"The look suits you," he stated, smiling slightly. "You would look even better between my legs."

Alfred pulled his head away from Arthur's foot with a glare. His pride was hurting, but he couldn't deny the heat the other's words had sparked in his groin. "That's never gonna happen if you don't keep your mouth shut."

The smile on Arthur's face stretched into a smirk. His foot delved low until it pressed against Alfred's crotch. He chuckled as Alfred inhaled audibly. "Your body must have missed the memo."

"Shut up and spread your legs," Alfred huffed, pushing by Arthur's foot and leaning forwards, splaying his fingers over the other's knees. No reply came, but Arthur did spread his legs. All the better for Alfred.

Before he could reach out to undo Arthur's button, however, Arthur's fingers had beaten him to it. They continued to unzip his pants and pull out his member from Arthur's underwear, stroking it several times. Alfred watched the repetitive movement attentively, observing how the other man hadn't needed to coax it too much. He had already been affected by their kiss.

"I can think of several ways to wipe that smug look off of your face," Arthur informed him, squeezing the flesh in his hand. "You can start with sucking me off."

Alfred rolled his eyes and reached out to slap Arthur's hand away and replacing it with his own. "You're saying that as if it were a bad thing," he muttered under his breath as his hand took over the pumping, reacquainting himself with the bumps and veins which decorated Arthur's cock. He hadn't the chance to study it properly the last time he had seen it and this time- this time he wanted to do things properly. He was still at the office, after all.

Arthur's voice was a little thick when he addressed him again. "Well aren't you eager," he purred, extending his hand down to cup Alfred's cheek in his hand. "Did you miss me that much?" The residue from the sweat and precum from when he had been handling his cock was still there, smearing on Alfred's skin. He didn't mind.

"I did," Alfred replied solemnly, tracing circles against the pulsing appendage in his hand. He watched how Arthur's eyes widened and how the smirk swiftly faded before continuing. "I missed feeling you on top of me, your warmth seeping into my skin. I missed your lips on my body. Hell, I even missed your voice telling me how good I was. Is that a crime?"

The little confession was worth the discomfort. Arthur looked positively _stunned _and if possible, even more aroused. The faint tint on his cheeks spread down his neck and deepened in color. The formidable Arthur Kirkland was blushing and for once, Alfred had rendered him speechless.

Alfred allowed the man to attempt a stuttering reply, biting back a smile. While he waited for the other to string together a coherent sentence, however, he had a cock which demanded his immediate attention. Alfred leaned down and licked a slow stripe from the base to the tip, tilting his head just so and effectively cutting off Arthur's jumbled words. The man resigned himself to his fate and let out an appreciative moan, reaching back from Alfred's cheek to grab at the nape of his neck, pushing him closer.

Opening his mouth, Alfred allowed himself to be pushed against Arthur's cock, enveloping it forcefully in his cavern. His lips were stretched around the thick appendage as he began to bob his head, closing his eyes as he concentrated on taking Arthur in deeper with every try. It was hard to focus while the man he was pleasuring was breathing heavily above him and let out the most enchanting sounds, but Alfred did his best, minding his teeth when he heard Arthur hiss.

"Alfred," he paused when he heard his name and looked up, meeting Arthur's lidded eyes. "Come here and kiss me."

His pulse was thundering as he pulled away from Arthur's cock with a wet noise and stood up, adjusting his legs so that he was straddling the other's thighs. Alfred sat down with Arthur's erect member pressing up against his own clothed one and wrapped his arms around the other man's shoulders, supporting himself. He rolled his hips and started a steady rhythm as he peppered Arthur's neck and collarbone with small kisses and bites.

Arthur's arms circled his waist, pulling Alfred closer as their crotches pressed together. Alfred could feel nails digging into his skin through the fabric of his shirt and inhaled sharply. Arthur had been sweet and languid the last time they had tumbled into bed together. Clearly, that wasn't going to be the case this time around.

_Good._

The hands around his waist moved lower and lower until they delved beneath his body and cupped his ass, squeezing it tightly. Alfred gasped.

"Aren't you going to close the door?" he suggested as he leaned forward to nuzzle Arthur's neck, granting the wandering hands easier access to fondle and grab. Arthur's chuckling vibrated against his cheek.

"No. I want anyone who passes by to know who is making you scream."

.x.

"So... you _aren't _going to fire me?" Alfred asked idly, his breath only just beginning to regulate. The wooden surface was hard against his spine and his bare legs dangled uncomfortably from the desk, but otherwise he was content. Arthur was hovering over him, a thin film of sweat coating his brow as he looked down on him fondly. His arms were trapping Alfred between them, but they were quickly retracted as Arthur pulled away, frowning.

"Was that what this was?" Arthur took a step back and pulled up his pants and trousers, fiddling with the zipper furiously. "A fuck with your boss in order to keep your job?"

Alfred sat up quickly, wincing at the sudden action. "Of course not! I was just teasing you, Jesus. Can't you take a joke?"

Arthur paused from what he was doing and looked up at Alfred, uncertain. "A joke?"

"Yes! A stupid joke I never should have made. Just forget about it, okay?"

Arthur's shoulders slumped. "I'm sorry. I just... I don't know how to handle this...situation." His expression hardened. "I never slept with an employee of mine. Ever."

"In that case," Alfred reached out and cupped Arthur's chin, "it's a first for the both of us. I never slept with my boss, either."

"That doesn't make it right," Arthur scowled, pulling his face away from Alfred's grasp. "I could be taking advantage of you for all I know."

Alfred made a frustrated sound as he climbed off of the desk and wrapped his arms around Arthur's hips, pulling them flush together. "I'm with you here out of my own free will, Arthur. Don't you _want _to touch me?"

"That's beside the point!" Arthur exclaimed, pulling away. "What I want and what I don't want have nothing to do with potentially abusing-"

"Fine," Alfred cut him off. "Next time I'll try to hook up with someone who doesn't have commitment issues.

With a low growl Arthur leaned forward and grabbed Alfred's wrist. "Don't you dare," he hissed. "No one can touch you but me."

"Then take responsibility!" Alfred snapped. "Yeah, maybe we shouldn't have fucked. But we did and now we need to deal with it. Pretending that it didn't happen is not an option," he added savagely before the other could comment. "That's what you did last time."

Arthur looked at him for a long moment before releasing his wrist and sighing. "I suppose you're right. What do _you _suggest we do, then?"

Without hesitating, Alfred stepped back to lean against the desk, yanking Arthur with him so that he topped on top of him. Before the other could escape, he hitched one of his legs over Arthur's hips, trapping him.

"If we're going to be immoral, we might as well make the most of it," he smirked, hooking an arm around Arthur's neck. "What do you say, boss? Up for another round?"

Shaking his head in amusement, Arthur leaned down and pressed a short kiss to Alfred's lips before pulling away with an identical smirk.

"The night is still young. Who knows? You might just get promoted."


End file.
